


Roommates

by aserenitatum



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 19:58:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14409516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aserenitatum/pseuds/aserenitatum
Summary: “… I’m going to kill you.”“But think of all the really hot sex I owe you that you’ll lose out on.”“That’s the only reason you’re still alive, Stacie, I hope you know that.”“And I’m very grateful.”





	Roommates

**Author's Note:**

> based on a prompt I got from on Tumblr  
> this was mad difficult to write but enjoy!

“I really wish you’d told me your mother was in town.”  

“I didn’t know she was, babe. She showed up at my office this afternoon and said “surprise!””  

“She flew all the way from Chicago to surprise you?”  

“She’s here for work.”  

“Ah…”  

“Yeah.”  

“Is she staying with us?”  

“No, she’s staying at a hotel in Soho.”  

“Then why are you putting all of your things in a laundry basket?”  

“Because she wants to have dinner here.”  

“And?” 

“And she’s going to want a tour of our apartment.”  

“And your things can’t be in this room, because…?”  

“My things can’t be in this room because your things are in this room.”  

“That makes no sense, Stacie. Why can’t your things be with my things? We live together.”  

“You and I live in a two-bedroom apartment together.”  

“Why are you being deliberately difficult?” 

“We’re two girls living together in a two-bedroom apartment. Do the math, Aubrey.”  

“Why would we—oh.”  

“Yeah.”  

“Oh my god...”  

“Yeah.”  

“Stacie!”  

“What?!”  

“Why doesn’t your mother know we live together?!”  

“She knows we live together, technically, but—”  

“I can’t believe you!”  

“Aubrey…”  

“Your mom doesn’t know we’re together.”  

“Not exactly, no.”  

“…”  

“Aubrey? Baby?”  

“Don’t touch me right now. I might want to throw something at you.”  

“Please don’t.”  

“Why haven’t you told your mother we’re dating?”  

“Technically, we’re more than dating, we’re living together.”  

“Why are you being annoyingly specific right now?”  

“I think it’s the panic.”  

“How do you think _I_ feel?”  

“Aubrey… I’m sorry.”  

“You need to—hey, wait a second, that’s mine!”  

“No, it’s not.”  

“Don’t put it with your stuff!”  

“Why not? It’s mine. It’s going in my room.”  

“This is your room, Stacie!”  

“It’s mine so it’s going in my decoy-room.”  

“That bookmark is mine.”  

“No, it’s not. My dad got it for me for Christmas. It’s mine.”  

“The bookmark your dad got for you is in the living room. This one is mine. I got it at the book festival in Brooklyn last year.”  

“Does it really matter?”  

“So you admit it’s not yours.”  

“Oh my god, keep the damn bookmark, Aubrey.”  

“Hey! Don’t throw my things!”  

“Sorry.”  

“Circling back to the original point…”  

“Which was?”  

“Why doesn’t your mother know we’re a couple?!”  

“Oh, that.”  

“Yes, that, Stacie.”  

“So, I may have told her that I’m not into girls anymore…”  

“…”  

“Don’t look at me like that, Bree.”  

“I don’t think you get to dictate how I look at you right now, Stacie.”  

“That’s fair.”  

“Please explain.”  

“So I didn’t tell her when we were dating because we were keeping it lowkey because of your family and stuff and then when we moved in together it just never came up?”  

“So how does the you-don’t-date-girls factor in?”  

“She kept teasing me about us having lesbian orgies in our house and, like, I can joke about that but when my mom does it, it’s just weird and uncomfortable, so—”  

“So instead of telling her we’re dating, you said…”  

“That I’m not into girls anymore.”  

“Stacie baby, I love you, but that was incredibly stupid.”  

“I mean, I know that now.”  

“What’s your plan here?”  

“Wait until she goes back to Chicago and tell her then?”  

“There’s just one flaw in that plan.”  

“What?”  

“The whole plan!”  

“You’re so dramatic. Calm down, Posen. Everything will be fine.”  

“Hm.”  

“I’ll make it up to you?” 

“I can’t imagine how.” 

“Lots of really hot sex. Probably also a lot of grovelling. Maybe chocolates.” 

“I don’t like lying to your mom.” 

“I know, baby. It’s just, she’s going to make a really big deal out of it and I don’t know...” 

“What?” 

“I just...” 

“Stace?”  

“I really like what we have and I don’t want to ruin the bubble... and if our parents start finding out they’ll be all up in our business.” 

“‘all up in our business?’” 

“You know what I mean!” 

“Yeah, I do, but it feels like...” 

“Like?” 

“...” 

“Aubrey?” 

“You haven’t told your mom about us. How am I supposed to feel about that? It’s like you’re—” 

“No.” 

“—embarrassed of me or hiding me.” 

“No!” 

“I—” 

“Aubrey, no. Baby, I’m so sorry. That’s not— _no_! The last thing I’d ever want is for you to think I’m ashamed of you.” 

“…” 

“I’m really sorry I hurt you. Bree, I love you so, so much. Okay?” 

“… okay.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. We’re good.” 

“Okay.” 

“I expect a lot of grovelling once she’s gone.” 

“Deal.” 

“And chocolate.” 

“And the really hot sex?” 

“That’s a given.” 

“Of course.”  

“When does she get here?”  

“In an hour.”  

“And what are your plans for dinner?” 

“…”  

“Stacie…”  

“You didn’t cook?”  

“That’s presumptuous.”  

“You cook every day! How was I supposed to know you weren’t cooking today of all days?”  

“I was going to take you out to dinner. It was going to be a surprise.”  

“Aubrey.”  

“And now your mother is here and you haven’t told her we’re in a relationship and we’re going to have to lie all throughout dinner _and_ I’m supposed to cook?”  

“We can order Chinese food?”  

“… I’m going to kill you.”  

“But think of all the really hot sex I owe you that you’ll lose out on.”  

“That’s the only reason you’re still alive, Stacie, I hope you know that.”  

“And I’m very grateful.” 

 

* * *

 

“Hey mom.” 

“Stacie! Hi! To what do I owe the pleasure?”  

“I just had a quick question.”  

“Shoot.”  

“When you were here for dinner last week, did you by any chance accidentally take my phone charger with you?”  

“Why do you ask?”  

“I can’t find it anywhere. I’ve been tearing the house apart and it’s been missing since you were here. I thought you might have taken it by accident?”  

“I definitely didn’t take it. Is it the charger with the two cables?”  

“Yeah? So you _have_ seen it?” 

“I know where it is.”  

“Oh, awesome! Where is it?”  

“Are you and Aubrey sleeping together?”  

“What?”  

“I said, are you and Aubrey sleeping together?”  

“Why would you think that?”  

“You’re avoiding the question, Stacie. Are you and Aubrey sleeping together?”  

“I—”  

“And don’t you dare lie to me, Anastasia.”  

“Why are you so invested in this, mom?” 

“If you admit that you’re sleeping with Aubrey, I’ll tell you where your charger is.”  

“Why can’t you just tell me?”  

“Because I want you to know that I know you’re lying.”  

“I’m not lying to you, mom.”  

“Hm.”  

“Mom. Please. The charger?”  

“I know you’re sleeping with Aubrey and that you have been for at least the past week.”  

“How could you possibly know that?”  

“Because the phone charger you’re missing? I put it under the pillow in your bedroom.”  


End file.
